


warrior, guardian

by artenon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, Other, Post-Canon, Strength Kink, Top Drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: Please.Crowley’s voice echoed in his head.Pleasewhat?Please more, please keep going, please make me come… please stop.No, Crowley hadn’t meant that. He hadn’tsaidthat. And yet Aziraphale could hear it, Crowley’s voice a soft whimper, begging him toplease stop.--Aziraphale is significantly stronger than Crowley. Crowley loves it, but Aziraphale's feelings on the matter are more complicated.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 916
Collections: Good Omens (Complete works)





	warrior, guardian

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i'll write my own ideas one day, but there are just so many good prompts out there!! and honestly, bless OP for essentially looking at fandom and going "ok, WE (and crowley) love aziraphale being super strong, but how does AZIRAPHALE feel about it? (answer: not great)"
> 
> you can check out the full prompt [here](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=1156712#cmt1156712)
> 
> thanks [blacktreecle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktreecle) for the quick beta!! <3

Crowley threw his head back with a loud moan, and Aziraphale slipped his hand behind his head just in time to soften Crowley’s impact against the wall. He kept his other hand wrapped securely around Crowley, holding him aloft. Crowley’s heels dug into Aziraphale’s back as Aziraphale pushed his cock deeper into Crowley’s ass.

“Fuck, fuck,” Crowley chanted, his eyes screwed shut. “Ffff—_hhaah_—”

Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley’s. “Relax, dear,” he murmured.

“_Mmngh_—”

Crowley tensed hard, heels digging in, arms squeezing tight—and then relaxed all over, going ragdoll limp in Aziraphale’s arms. He dropped his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder. His ankles were hooked loosely around Aziraphale’s waist, no longer making an effort to hold himself up, but he didn’t need to; Aziraphale bore his weight easily with one hand, the other still tangled in Crowley’s hair.

Aziraphale eased Crowley lower onto his cock. Crowley moaned again, not as frantic as before. This time was soft, satisfied.

“Mmn, angel.” Crowley bit gently down on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Bet you don’t even need the wall. Could probably hold me up all on your own.”

Aziraphale rolled his hips and relished in Crowley’s quiet shudder. “I can’t imagine that would be very comfortable for you.”

“Maybe not,” Crowley conceded. “Hot, though.”

Aziraphale shook his head slightly. He could appreciate wanting a rougher fuck every now and again, but Crowley had a fixation on Aziraphale’s strength in particular that Aziraphale didn’t always understand.

“Come on, do it,” Crowley said now. “Show me you can.”

Aziraphale really did not think it’d be comfortable, but if Crowley wanted it, then Aziraphale wanted to give it to him. He took a step back from the wall, sliding his hand from Crowley’s hair down to his back to hold him steady. He took two more steps back in case Crowley decided to throw his head back again, though for now Crowley seemed content to nuzzle into his neck, kissing and nibbling in turns.

Aziraphale shifted his grip on Crowley, then lifted him up, sliding him part-way off his cock before tugging him back down. Crowley moaned happily, the sound shooting straight to Aziraphale’s groin, and Aziraphale lifted and brought him down again, harder.

“More,” Crowley panted. “Whatever you need. Take it. _Use_ me.”

Aziraphale lifted him almost all the way off his cock and slammed him down. Crowley made a choked sound, a mix of pleasure and pain. He dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s back.

Aziraphale settled into a rhythm, quick and steady. He didn’t give any attention to Crowley’s cock, flushed and leaking against his own stomach. He knew Crowley didn’t want him to, wanted Aziraphale to take his own pleasure first without regard for Crowley’s. It ran contrary to Aziraphale’s instincts, which wanted to care for Crowley and lavish him with loving attention.

But it made Crowley happy. And Aziraphale was happy, too. Really. It was _good_, witnessing Crowley come undone with such pleasure, being the cause of it. Crowley liked making Aziraphale feel good, and this was how he liked to do it: by surrendering his body wholly to Aziraphale. Certainly Aziraphale couldn’t complain about that.

But sometimes he _said_ things…

“_Fuck_, angel, you’re—_oh_—you’re so f-fucking _strong_, could do anything to me, I couldn’t—! Couldn’t stop you—” Crowley babbled, breath hot and wet against Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale didn’t slow, didn’t do anything to suggest at the small twinge of unease in his stomach caused by Crowley’s words. It wasn’t true, was it? Aziraphale would stop if Crowley only asked him to. They’d discussed it. They had a safeword.

Only, that safeword was contingent on Aziraphale following through, wasn’t it? Because, physically, Crowley really couldn’t stop him, could he? Aziraphale was stronger. He might be a Principality now, but he was created a Cherub, and he still had all of a Cherub’s warrior strength.

Aziraphale didn’t know which Heavenly sphere Crowley had belonged to as an angel, didn’t know if it made a difference now that he was Fallen, but it didn’t matter either way; Crowley was no warrior.

And of course Aziraphale would stop if Crowley said to, _of course_, he loved him, he didn’t want to hurt him—and yet, Aziraphale couldn’t reconcile his knowledge of it with Crowley’s faith in it.

“Angel, you okay?” Crowley had pulled back to look at him, eyes flicking across Aziraphale’s face, assessing.

Aziraphale blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d done anything to warrant attention. His hips followed the momentum into another thrust, then slowed and stopped.

“I’m fine,” he reassured. “You?”

“Perfect.” Crowley leaned in and nuzzled Aziraphale’s cheek. “Though—wouldn’t say no if you went harder.”

The tension in Aziraphale’s stomach eased a little. He had to remember that Crowley liked this. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you,” he teased.

Crowley shrugged, unbothered. “Pot, kettle.”

Aziraphale smiled and angled his head to press a kiss to Crowley’s lips. He lingered, keeping their mouths joined as he carried Crowley to the bed, extending his angelic senses to ‘see’ the room and avoid any unfortunate accidents. He had to break the kiss to lower Crowley onto the bed, though, and lift him off his cock. Crowley whined when Aziraphale slid out, and Aziraphale bit off a moan of his own at the loss of pressure.

Once they were on the bed, Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s legs up and sank right back into him with a sigh. He started thrusting slowly, building up to the same steady rhythm as before.

“I—_ngh_, I said harder, harder—fuck!”

Crowley broke off with a shout as Aziraphale slammed into him. Aziraphale braced his hands on the backs of Crowley’s thighs, folding Crowley over so that he was nearly bent in two, his ass on full display for Aziraphale to fuck.

“Oh fu—_oh_—”

Crowley’s hands scrabbled frantically over the sheets in the way that Aziraphale knew meant that he was close to coming untouched. Aziraphale bowed his head, sweat dripping off his brow. Crowley’s delicious moans stoked Aziraphale’s arousal, and the pleasure was cresting in him. His hips stuttered. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s thighs and pounded into him with frenzied, desperate thrusts, all semblance of rhythm lost.

Crowley dissolved into helpless whimpers for several moments. When finally a word broke through, it was this: “_Please_.”

Aziraphale looked up. Crowley had flung his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His chest heaved and shone with sweat. He whimpered again, “_Please_.”

The whimper reached into Aziraphale’s groin and wrenched the orgasm out of him; he drove into Crowley one more time and released inside him in hot pulses. With a shout, Crowley followed him over the edge, spilling himself over his stomach.

Aziraphale remained rooted in Crowley, panting, as his mental faculties rebooted. Beneath him, Crowley quivered all over, breathing harshly.

Finally Aziraphale pulled out and moved aside, and Crowley lowered his legs to the bed with a groan.

“Ow,” he said pleasantly.

Aziraphale lay on his side beside Crowley. He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s middle and closed his eyes.

Crowley was fine. Warm, alive, and radiating love.

So why did Aziraphale feel so unsettled?

_Please. _Crowley’s voice echoed in his head. _Please_ what? _Please more, please keep going, please make me come… please stop._

No, Crowley hadn’t meant that. He hadn’t _said_ that. And yet Aziraphale could hear it, Crowley’s voice a soft whimper, begging him to _please stop._

The lines of pleasure and pain sometimes blurred for Crowley, Aziraphale knew. A pained cry could easily be a signal of pleasure during a particularly rough session of sex. Aziraphale knew this, but he couldn’t stop hearing Crowley’s whimpers, desperate, hurting.

Aziraphale would have stopped, if Crowley had only asked. He wouldn’t have ignored Crowley’s pleasure in pursuit of his own, not if Crowley hadn't wanted it.

Crowley had bared his throat to him, made himself vulnerable. He trusted Aziraphale not to hurt him, when he could do it so, so easily…

_Could do anything to me, I couldn’t stop you._

“Hey,” Crowley said, snuggling into his side. “Do you still have your armor? Your Cherub armor, I mean. And, hypothetically, how difficult would it be to fuck me while you were wearing it?”

Aziraphale didn’t respond. He _couldn’t_ respond. He’d discovered a very large lump in his throat around which no words could pass. His eyes burned.

“Angel? Aziraphale? Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks. He swiped away a tear from the corner of his eye with a thumb. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, soft and broken and miserable.

Crowley kissed one cheek, then the other. He tipped his head forward and pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

“I…” Aziraphale took a shuddering breath. He swallowed. The lump in his throat ached and didn’t subside. “I hurt you.”

“No,” Crowley said. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. It was so good, Aziraphale. It felt so good.”

“But I could hurt you. I could do anything to you and you wouldn’t be able to stop me. You said so yourself,” Aziraphale said wretchedly, and wished that he’d stop crying. Crowley kept wiping tears away only to have them immediately replaced by fresh ones.

“Yeah, except I _could _stop you. If I wanted you to stop, I’d tell you.”

“But what if you told me to stop and I didn’t? If I just kept taking?”

“You wouldn’t, though,” Crowley said patiently. “Would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, there you go.”

“You don’t understand,” Aziraphale said.

“Then explain.”

“I’m _trying_,” Aziraphale cried. He buried his face in his hands.

“Hey, hey…” Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms, tucking his chin over Aziraphale’s head and rubbing his back. “I’m trying to understand, okay? I’m listening.”

Aziraphale worked to get his sobs under control. When he thought he could talk again, he pulled out from Crowley’s embrace. He liked being close, but he needed to look at Crowley for this conversation.

Crowley wiped Aziraphale’s cheeks with his wrist, and Aziraphale drew a deep breath.

“I just… How do you know I would stop?”

Crowley’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Because that’s how consensual sex works? Do you think I wouldn’t stop if you asked me to?”

“Of course you would, but—”

“So then what’s—”

“_But_ if it came down to it, I could overpower you,” Aziraphale said quietly. An errant tear slipped down his cheek; Crowley chased it with a finger. “I could make you stop. If I had to.”

Crowley was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “I trust you.”

And Aziraphale said, “That’s what I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand about it?”

Aziraphale thought of Crowley baring his throat. And then he thought of Crowley on his knees on the tarmac at Tadfield Air Base, and the fear that flashed through his eyes when Aziraphale had raised his sword. For a split second, they’d both wondered: was he going to use it?

“We were one wrong step away from Armageddon,” Aziraphale said. “One wrong step, and until two hours before, I didn’t even know whether I would choose you or Heaven. We might’ve gone to war against each other.”

“We didn’t, though.”

“We _might’ve_.”

“Okay,” Crowley said. “I’d tell you that thinking about _what if’s_ only leads to madness, but I can tell that won’t stop you, so I’m going to let you in on a secret instead: I always knew you wouldn’t side with Heaven.”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “How could you possibly know that when I didn’t even know?”

“Because I know you, Aziraphale. And I knew in the end you’d do the right thing, the good thing. _Human_ good, not Heaven Good.”

Aziraphale shook his head. The lump that had just started to recede in his throat was growing again.

Crowley sighed. “Fine, say the war between Heaven and Hell did start, despite our best efforts. What did you think would happen? That we’d have a dramatic face-off that ended with you executing me? I’m not stupid, Aziraphale, I know you would beat me easily. But more importantly, I’d never put you in that position. I wouldn’t fight you. I wouldn’t fight _at all_. If it came down to it, d’you know what my plan was?”

“Alpha Centauri?” Aziraphale sniffled.

“No, you daft—I was never going to abandon you, got that?” Crowley kissed him firmly, as if cementing his point. “If you weren’t going to leave with me, then I was going to seek asylum in Heaven. Convince them that I’d misplaced the Antichrist on purpose to throw Hell in for a loop. Promise intel, whatever I could. I even thought about asking you to pretend you’d captured me and forced me to surrender.”

“You hate Heaven,” Aziraphale said, dumbfounded, because he’d thought of that, of bringing Crowley back with him. He’d even suggested it, as forwardly as he’d felt he could (_You were an angel once._) and Crowley had shut him down, and quite angrily, too.

As if reading his mind, Crowley said, “I didn’t need their forgiveness to have their protection. I hate Heaven. And I hate Hell. But I love _you_. I wasn’t going to throw that away.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “I love you, Crowley.”

He wished he’d said it even once in their long years together before the Apocalypse. Crowley hadn’t, but he hadn’t needed to; Aziraphale could sense it. For six thousand years Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s growing love for him, but he could never return the favor. He had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you so very much,” he said. “More than I could possibly say.”

“I know,” Crowley said. “I know you do.” He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, stroked it with his thumb. His eyes crinkled gently at the corners. “We’re here now, alright? It’s all okay now. And—you know, we don’t have to do that kind of stuff during sex, if it makes you uncomfortable. Why have you been going through with it at all, if you hate it so much?”

“I don’t—I don’t _hate_ it, I think,” Aziraphale said, thinking of Crowley pinned and squirming beneath him, pleasured moans delving straight into Aziraphale’s groin. Of holding Crowley by hair and jaw and fucking his mouth, feeling Crowley’s throat constrict around him while his face remained the picture of bliss. “Being rough. Even controlling, sometimes. It’s when you say things about how I could force you, harm you even… I don’t like that. I don’t want to be reminded of a time when that could have been true.”

Crowley nodded. “Okay, then I won’t say that stuff. I’ll frame it as you taking care of me. Because that _is_ what you’re doing, you know. Taking care of me. Very, _very_ well. And if, after that, it still makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”

Aziraphale broke his gaze. It didn’t feel fair, that Crowley should make all these concessions for him. He traced aimless patterns on Crowley’s chest with his forefinger. Quietly, he said, “But you like it.”

Crowley tipped Aziraphale’s chin up and looked him in the eye. “I like anything with you, got that? We could have nothing but missionary sex for the rest of our immortal lives if that’s what you wanted and I’d be _ecstatic_.”

Aziraphale laughed, and though it was a bit watery, Crowley smiled and said, “There we are,” and kissed him.

“Very well, we can experiment with it,” Aziraphale said. He paused. “Thank you, dear.”

“Pssshhhh,” Crowley said. “Demons don’t get thanks.”

“Loving, kind, supportive partners do,” Aziraphale said.

He pushed Crowley’s shoulder, coaxing him to lie on his back. Then he situated himself over Crowley, bracing himself on his elbows with their bodies flush together, and kissed him soundly.

Aziraphale could feel Crowley smiling against his lips. “Hmm, I suppose that’s alright, then.”

He slid a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and urged him into another kiss.

“You can lie on me,” Crowley murmured when they parted.

“My dear, I’ll squish you.”

“You won’t.”

“I will. You won’t be able to breathe.”

“I don’t _need_ to breathe.”

“But you like to.”

“It makes me feel safe,” Crowley said. “When you’re on top of me, I mean. All covered by you and safe.”

Aziraphale worried his bottom lip. “Well… I suppose…” Slowly, he relaxed the tension in his arms, lowering his body fully onto Crowley.

Crowley sighed like he was sinking into a hot bath. He didn’t stop breathing entirely, although his breaths did go more shallow, Aziraphale’s body on top of his limiting how much his lungs could expand.

“You’re stronger than me, yeah,” Crowley said. “But that just means you’ll be able to protect me if anything happens, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll protect you. I’ll protect _us_.”

“Good,” Crowley said. He burrowed a bit, then settled with a happy hum.

Aziraphale pressed a few idle kisses to his jaw, and then remembered something Crowley had said earlier. “Were you serious?” Aziraphale said. “About the armor?”

“Uhhhh,” Crowley said. “I mean… I wouldn’t complain about seeing you in it… Or letting you bend me over and fuck me while you were wearing it…”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said.

“We can, umm, uhh, pretend it’s a post-victory fuck? You have just saved me from fiendish demons out for revenge and I, overcome with relief and gratitude and horniness, beg you to take me where we stand?”

Aziraphale hid his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck. His shoulders shook.

“Aziraphale? Are y— Oh. You’re laughing.”

Aziraphale raised his head. “You are a singularly ridiculous creature,” he said, all fondness.

Crowley grinned. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3 you can find me on [tumblr](https://qorktrees.tumblr.com/)


End file.
